Dawn to Dawn
by Pyxelle
Summary: Crossover between original and 2004 Dawn of the Dead. What would have happened if the Crossroads crew had encountered Peter and Fran before their attempt to escape to the island-how would the relationships and the outcome be changed?
1. Default Chapter

I am a fan of both the original and remade versions of this story, and I love crossovers so of course this would result in fanfiction. The timelines are obviously altered to account for the fact that these were made in two different times. I have used the present (or the 2004) version for the timeline simply because I am living in that time now! Also, Fran and Peter lived for an indeterminate time in the mall (as did the Crossroads crew) – for story purposes, I am having Fran/Peter's time be quite a bit shorter and the Crossroads crew a bit longer than may be portrayed. There will be other discrepancies I would ask you to forgive as well owing to the differences in the films…after all, this is supposed to be fun for you and I! Otherwise, I am trying my best to keep true to BOTH films, as both are horror classics in their own rights! (At least, in my humble opinion!)

(Obligatory disclaimer: This is for fun, the characters are not mine, I wish they were, everything is owned by, unfortunately, not me, except this story.)

**Dawn to Dawn**

**Chapter 1**

The helicopter's fuel tank was nearly empty. Fran hadn't said it, but Peter knew it. They had a limited amount of time left in the air – a space of minutes, twenty at tops. It was clear to the both of them that the helicopter was running on little more than their hopes and the last breath of petroleum in the engine.

"We need a place to land. Now." Fran said, finally breaking the silence that had reigned for the better part of three hours. It was only sheer luck that they had been able to find fueling stops the last two times. Now it seemed their luck had run out. They were over a large metropolitan area, but the shifting, hungry shapes beneath them had kept them from landing. Peter knew that Fran had been scouting the area as well as he, and also knew that she had come up with as little. They had seemingly wandered into a fairly sparse part of the city, and even the rooftops seemed uninviting to their eyes, as if they could tell that beneath them not lay certain death, no, death would almost be welcome at this time, but a form of eternal life. A strange, horrid half-life where the inhabitant of the body became nothing more than a shell, a repository for the mindless beast that had devoured it.

Peter narrowed his eyes, shaking the thought from his head. This wasn't the time for the philosophical thoughts that had begun to cross his mind as the days passed. He wasn't given to philosophy, he was a man of action – but the truth of the matter was one couldn't help but question the nature of these things. But this wasn't the time. "Fran, look…I think that might be a decent spot to land." He pointed.

"A warehouse?" Fran asked doubtfully, and Peter shook his head. He had learned that he had much better eyesight than her.

"No, I don't think so." He said, without missing a beat. "I think it's a mall."

Fran's silence was the only answer he had to that. He glanced at her, and the small, frightened look on her face let him know that she was not exactly thrilled by this new 'haven.' "Look, Fran, we're almost out of fuel. We need to set down…and I think there might be writing of some sort up there."

"What?" Fran's voice turned sharp, and the helicopter edged upwards suddenly. They both peered through the window. There was writing all right. And despite himself, despite the fact that only days ago he had been ready to end his own life, he felt his heart leap as he read the words.

ALIVE INSIDE 

"Do you think it's still possible?" Fran asked hesitantly.

"There's only one way to find out." Peter said, and smiled at her confidently. Their strange friendship had no large measure of closeness to it, but they had nonetheless forged a bond he recognized from his time in the army – a bond wrought by adversity.

They were survivors.

Peter felt a twinge of worry as Fran swung the helicopter towards the mall. He had thought the ravenous crowd outside the mall he and Fran had fled from was bad, but this one bordered on nightmarish proportions. And it may have been a trick of the light, but they seemed…well, _fast._ Half of the time Peter had almost felt guilty at the ease with which he had battled the dead _things_ that had consumed Roger and Flyboy – they had moved slowly, like they were distantly related to the extinct dinosaur and it took a goodly amount of time for the thoughts from their minimal brains to reach their limbs. But the creatures beating at the walls of this place looked as if they could outrun an Olympic racer.

But maybe it was just a trick of his senses. "Fran, do you know what the name of this mall is?"

Fran laughed harshly. "Peter, I don't even know what _city_ this is. Steven…well, Steven taught me how to fly this thing. He hadn't gotten around to teaching me much about how to navigate the damn contraption. I can lift'er up, put'er down, and fuel'er up. That's about it."

"That's okay." Peter said as the closed in on the roof of the mall. Dusk had fallen not long before, but the moon still illuminated the roof well. There didn't appear to be any of the zombies on the roof. That didn't mean much, actually, because he didn't see any _living_ people on the roof, but…

They landed gently. One thing Peter had learned about Fran – she was a quick learner. During their early firearms lessons she had shown a much greater aptitude than Flyboy had, though Peter didn't tell Steven so. He had kept quiet not to protect Steven's feelings, but to protect his and Fran's relationship – a posse of three could not afford to be broken up by feelings of jealousy. It was only logical.

Peter was a logical man.

The 'copter sputtered to a stop. He followed Fran out the hatch, his hand instinctively reaching out to her as she tottered, the weight of her pregnant stomach pulling her off balance for a moment. "You okay?" he asked.

"No." Fran laughed a little. "But that's no different from any other day."

Peter felt as if he should comfort her, but his soldier's instincts had already kicked in. Something was wrong here – he could feel it. Nothing had changed perceptibly, but something was definitely wrong. He opened the door on the roof – oh, how he wished they had been able to have such easy access – and peered into the darkness beyond.

There were no lights shining. Not even the emergency lights were on. The power was dead.

"Peter, maybe we should-"

"Quiet." He said a trifle harshly. _Alive inside._ Maybe he was being foolish, but they couldn't go much farther on the fuel they had anyways. "Stay behind me, and cover me."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fran's face tighten, and she gripped the rifle more firmly. There was a soldier's instinct in her, he knew. He had seen it on the day she had demanded that she was a part of the group, that she would be included on their decisions and plans. He stood by what he had said that day – she was right, but not until she proved she was able to do so. That hadn't been a sexist comment, though Fran may have taken it that way. It had been a statement of fact. He had treated Steven in the same manner - but Flyboy had come through. Fran had an inner core of steel that was just starting to show through, and Peter was surprised to feel that he felt a measure of confidence at having her at his back. She was stronger than her lover had been, he felt sure of that.

But he still walked the steps cautiously, swinging the flashlight in front of him back and forth. The door closed behind Fran and the only light was from the strong beam- strong, but limited in range. "Come on." He said, pushing down his fear. Something was definitely wrong here, but the chance…he remembered the words on the roof.

_Alive inside._

**OoooOoooO**

"Just breathe."

Andre watched the face of his wife, his soul-mate, his reason for living as she hitched in her breath shallowly, her eyes staring near-blankly at the ceiling. _Look at me, look at me…._ He thought helplessly, but the beautiful brown orbs stayed locked on some distant vision as Luda hitched in one last breath…and died.

Andre watched, sweat coursing down his face, and waited for her to breathe again. The dim lights didn't even afford him the illusion of one last breath, and he knew she was gone. He felt his face tighten, and a wave of grief so strong he actually felt _he_ might stop breathing came over him. "I'm sorry." He said, leaning over and kissing her, gently, one last time upon the lips. Tears escaped from beneath his closed eyelids, and he rested his head upon the breast of the woman who been his companion and his salvation. His future had died here, in this room that should have celebrated new life.

His future had died.

Kenneth had been right when he had said Andre was afraid of going to Hell. But what he hadn't known is that Andre had already found his redemption – had found it in the face of his beautiful young wife and the promise of their unborn child. Andre had striven to be the man that Luda deserved when they had discovered their unlikely romance. When she had consented to be his wife, he had dared to hope that his past deeds would be forgiven. When she had told him he was going to be a father a few months later, he had been sure of it.

But maybe God had given him Luda and the baby so that his punishment could be that much crueler. Maybe God had hated him so much that he couldn't be content to murder Andre's family, his mother, his sister, his fourteen year old brother who had looked so like their father…maybe God also had a merciless sense of humor. Give Andre joy, give Andre hope…then snatch it away before you let Andre die.

How could God have done this to him? To Luda? _To the innocent child that lay dead within her womb?_

Dimly he began to be aware of a movement close to his head. Andre lifted his face slowly, turning to the right with a deliberate motion. The baby kicked…no, _squirmed_ beneath the taut skin of Luda's abdomen. He watched in astonishment…almost for a moment too long.

Luda awoke with a vengeance, and Andre stumbled back as she bared her teeth at him and hissed at her with inhuman eyes. He was suddenly reminded of the straps that held her down, the straps that just moments ago he had been agonizing over and wishing he could release her from. "It's coming." He whispered, almost inaudibly. Luda snapped her teeth at him, and he felt his soul wrench as he grabbed the gag he had made earlier from the dresser. He had hoped he wouldn't have to use it…but he did.

As Luda strained against the gag and writhed in the restraints on the bed, an explosive rush of some unimaginable dark fluid shot from between her legs. "It's coming." Andre said again, a little louder. Thoughts crowded in his mind, his memory running backwards-

_Yes, Andre, I will marry you_

Luda screamed inside the gag, muffled, her eyes rolling up into her head….

_Andre, we're going to have a baby…_

Her pelvis thrust up, legs spreading, and Andre began to inch around to where he could see…

_It's __a very healthy baby, ma'am. Heartbeat is strong._

Andre winced as his wife screamed again beneath the bit, but this time it sounded more like the scream of a woman in pain…

_Are you sure you don't want to know if it's a boy or girl?_

Dark, clotted chunks littered the bed between her legs, but he could see Luda turning her legs into a straddling position…almost as if the restraints were stirrups in a hospital bed…

_You have less than two weeks to go…the baby's turned properly, I've never seen a mother who took such good care of herself..._

And he suddenly realized that something of Luda remained, some part of her wanted to give birth to their child…

_It should be an easy birth._

It should be an easy birth.

Andre silently gave a prayer of thanks to a God unknown, as the God who had thus far protected the Earth had obviously abandoned them.

"You're doing good, baby." Andre said to Luda, his eyes shining but him being unaware of the frightening lack of sanity in them. Luda whipped her head back and forth, the gutteral noises she made being muffled by her gag and filtered through his consciousness until they were robbed of their terrifying power. "Our baby's coming."

Andre smiled, his heart soaring even as his mind broke.

"Our baby's coming."

**OoooOoooO**

"There's something up there."

Fran simply nodded, her lips pressed tightly together as she trailed a few feet behind Peter. He had flicked off the flashlight as soon as they had turned the corner. She had seen it too, the faint light ahead that flickered enticingly and yet ominously at the same time. Peter gave a sharp inclination of his head to show that he knew she had understood, and crept silently along the passageway. She felt as if she were pounding along the ground like a herd of elephants compared to him, even though she had traded the stylish pumps she preferred for a pair of tennis long ago. Peter had an eerie ability to be _absolutely silent…_a talent she hoped to learn from him – eventually.

There were noises suddenly, voices, it sounded like. But she couldn't make out anything they were saying.

Peter looked at her, and then copied her gesture as she shook her head. Neither of them could make out any words. The light flickered again, and there were the sharp sound of footprints on the ground. Fran looked at Peter hopefully.

He shook his head. _We can't be sure._ He mouthed to her. She felt her shoulders sag just the slightest bit, but her grip on the rifle didn't waver. She followed him as silently as possible. They passed a store by the name of _Metropolis_ and she noticed that the window had been shattered, but there was no glass littering the floor. Someone had cleaned it up…

Another sound came out of the darkness, and this time she was sure she had heard it correctly. A woman was humming somewhere ahead of them, not too far away…quietly and out of tune, but humming all the same. Fran glanced at Peter and realized he had noticed the same thing. The caution still in his eyes kept her silent, though, and they shared a brief glance.

Instinct remained. They really didn't know how much. They had found out that some memory remained – Steven had led the unreasoning horde to their home within the mall, after all.

Caution still guiding their steps, Fran and Peter inched closer.

**OoooOoooO**

"Sure you don't want me to take it?"

"Nah, I'll do it." Norma grabbed the candles off the counter, and Anna watched her pull her cigarettes out of her pocket. "I'll smoke on the way."

"'Kay." Anna agreed. She started humming as she continued to light the candles that were still not burning. When they got the power up and running she would check on Luda – but it would be easier to see how she was doing in proper light, anyways. Andre and Luda were reclusive, even distant from the rest of the group, but Anna could understand their desperate need for each other. They had seen and heard countless families being destroyed, listened to the stories of the others losing their loved ones, and yet they still had survived to this point – whole, and a family. Anna viewed Luda's baby as a sort of hopeful promise that they would get through this, that the human race would rise to the potential of its mighty spirit and survive.

Anna meant to do anything she could to help this baby have the best start it could.

She may have not been a doctor, but she had enough pride to admit she was a damn fine nurse, and maybe that was enough. Never had she felt her medical skills were as valuable as they were right now. That was understandable. They _hadn't_ been as valuable. She'd been a damn fine nurse, all right, one of a thousand of damn fine nurses, but now…she was all these people had. And Anna was glad she had been a damn fine nurse.

The candlelight flickered, and Anna felt rather than saw that she was no longer alone. She pulled the gun from her back pocket, still humming though softer now, and inched around from behind the counter in Hallowed Grounds. She'd feel mighty silly if it was just Monica or Terry or Nicole…but she'd be mighty dead if it wasn't. She stopped humming as she crept towards the shadows near _Metropolis._ The gun was steady in her hand.

"Say something."

The deep voice brooked no disobedience, but Anna turned slowly before she answered. She already knew what that answer was.

The man before her was dark skinned, tall, and dressed in a uniform of authority. Anna would have probably felt déjà vu if it hadn't have been for the pretty blond pregnant woman behind him, holding a rifle and looking at her just as coldly. Anna held her gun up in a gesture of surrender. She may have not been a doctor, but at this point was the closest thing to it, and one of the creeds a physician had to adhere to was _do no harm._

"Say something!" The man said again, more harshly this time. Anna swallowed as she pointed her gun in the air and spoke.

"Please."

**End of Chapter One**

**Please review! I am a review junkie! (grin)**


	2. Chapter 2

(Obligatory disclaimer: This is for fun, the characters are not mine, I wish they were, everything is owned by, unfortunately, not me, except this story.)

**Dawn to Dawn **

**Chapter 2**

Peter lowered the gun slowly. "Good answer." He said. The woman in front of him shrugged a little as she lowered her arms.

"Its one I've had to give before."

"You alone here?" He knew there was at least one other person, but the question more of a test than anything else. They had fought to keep their haven within the mall – he fully expected this woman and her companions to be ready to do the same.

"No," she said. "There's fourteen of us. Fifteen, if you count Andy across the street."

Peter and Fran shared a quick look. Fourteen. They hadn't expected nearly so many. "So I'm guessing you've got this place secured."

"As best as possible, yeah. We've been here a while." The woman looked him up and down. "I guess the next logical question is where did you come from, then? If we _do_ have this place secured, and I think we pretty well do, then I'm more than a little curious as to how you got in."

"The roof. We have a helicopter." He hurried on at the look of almost desperate hope that came into her eyes. "Not to disappoint you or anything, but it's nearly out of fuel. We're not a rescue squad."

"Oh." Her shoulders fell. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, huh. I don't know many military rescue squads manned by one man and a pregnant lady."

"Sorry." Peter didn't know why he was apologizing, but he was genuinely sorry he had to disappoint this woman.

"Not your fault." The blonde smiled thinly. "I'm Anna."

"Nice to meet you, Anna. It's been a while since we've seen anyone else – alive, that is."

"Thanks."

"Fran." Fran said at Anna's look in her direction. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." Anna headed back behind the counter. "A couple of the guys went to go restore the power – the generator went out. You'd probably better wait here until they get it back on. Not that it isn't great to see a few new faces, but they don't know you – and most of us keep a gun on us all the time. I can make you a coffee or something…or get you something to eat. We can do introductions when the lights are back on and the rest of us are back."

"Good idea." Peter found himself warming to this woman, who obviously had a head on her shoulders. That was good. "Food sounds great."

"It sounds heavenly." Fran agreed with a sigh. "We've been eating out of cans – cold – for three days. Not to complain or anything, but I'd love a hot meal. Warm would do it, even."

Anna smiled at her, a genuine smile that for some reason surprised Peter. "I think we can manage hot. I –" a gunshot cut her off. Anna looked up sharply, and Peter and Fran both instinctively raised their weapons. Several more shots were fired. In a flash Anna had burst into a run, heading towards the sound. Peter and Fran followed.

"Anna? What was that?" A young man came running towards them, followed others. He nearly came to a stop at seeing Peter and Fran. "And who are they?"

"No time for questions!" Anna ordered as she headed into a store that advertised the word _Carousel_ over it. Again he felt himself liking this woman. She was practical.

"Norma? Norma!" Anna dropped to the ground beside an older woman who would have looked like a friendly retired gym teacher if it hadn't been for the gunshot holes that had bloomed in her chest.

"Bastard…shot me." The woman said in a voice that bubbled, and Peter coldly determined she was already dead. There was blood in her lungs, and unless they had a fully staffed emergency room available to them – which they obviously didn't – she didn't have a whisper of a chance. His trained eye told him that she probably wouldn't have, anyways. Immediately he dismissed her and his eyes searched the room.

"Peter." Fran said in a small voice. "What the hell happened here?"

"She's dead." Anna announced, standing. The young man drew his gun. "Terry, no."

"She's gonna get up, though, right?"

"I don't think so. She was killed by a gunshot. She wasn't bitten."

Peter had already begun to walk to the bed. The horrific sight may not have affected his features, as he had already trained himself to mask his emotions, but he felt a wave of terror nonetheless. A young black man lay horizontally across the bed, legs dangling. In his arms he held something wrapped in a pink blanket. Beneath him laid the body of a woman, her head shot clean through. She had been bound hands and feet to the bed, and a leather gag was in her mouth.

"Terry, hold this." Anna said, handing over the flashlight to the young man behind her. She started to pass by him, and a flash of unreasoning anger overcame Peter. He grabbed her arm roughly. Someone behind him – his guess was the redhead, though the blonde didn't look all that tough either – made a frightened whimper.

"What the hell is this?" He growled at her. "You strapped one of those _things_ to the bed? What kind of sick fuckers are you?"

Anna looked up at him calmly, her gaze direct. "The kind of sick fuckers who didn't have a clue about this. And you can take your hands off of me. Trust me, after what I've been through, what we've _all_ been through, you're the least frightening thing I've seen in days."

Peter released her with some surprise. She hadn't even seemed touched. But how could they have not known about this? Why in God's name had they let it get to this point?

"Oh my god, Peter…she was pregnant." Fran's voice carried a stunned horror in it. He had already deduced that and communicated it with a short nod.

Anna stepped up to the dead man and carefully began to move the pink blanket. Peter wished Fran wasn't here to see this, but he knew better than to try and tell her to leave. The face that was slowly revealed was not the healthy pink of a human newborn, but gray, ashen and lifeless – almost. A moment after it's face was revealed the dead child began to scream. The sound was chilling, all the more so because the tiny mouth it came from should have never made such a sound.

"Oh, god." Anna breathed. This had definitely cut through her apparent armor. Peter shifted his gun and started to take a step forward. She wasn't going to be able to do this.

He was wrong about that, though. His forward momentum stopped before it had ever really began as Anna began to raise her gun. "Fran." He said, turning her away from the sight. She let him. That was no surprise. Peter wished he could turn away too, but a certain sick fascination compelled him to watch.

The single gunshot reverberated through the halls of the mall, seeming to make the sound much longer than it was. The child's head was gone – obliterated by the weapon. Fran sobbed behind him, and he glanced to make sure she was still turned away. She was. One of the girls – the redhead – began to cry.

A moment passed. "Lets get out of here." Anna said, her voice breaking the silence. "We can take care of the bodies when the guys get back." There was an unspoken addendum to her words. Though she didn't say them, they hovered in the air anyways, like black balloons filled with deadly gas instead of helium.

_If they get back._

**OoooOoooO**

"I let Bart die."

Michael looked at CJ in some surprise. The man's voice had sounded almost regretful. He felt a sudden cruel impulse to remind CJ of his words on the roof. _I'll kill all of you if I have to._ But Michael wasn't a cruel man. "He was dead the moment that thing fell on him. There's nothing any of us could have done."

CJ glared at him. "I know that, asshole. But he was my responsibility. If I'd had to kill him, well, then I would have, but leaving him to be eaten by those fuckers is an entirely different thing. I shoulda shot him. That's all I meant."

Michael ran his fingers through his hair wearily. He should have known CJ would stay true to form. "Fine. Forgive me for thinking you might have a human emotion or two still living in that thing you laughingly call a heart."

They were in the stairwell, nearly to the door. CJ grabbed Michael roughly by the shoulder and spun him around so hard Michael nearly lost his footing on the stairs. Higher up the steps, Kenneth stopped and raised his gun. "Better not, man." He said to CJ, his deep voice carrying a command in it that Michael wished he had. CJ ignored him.

"You think you're the only one who's got problems?" The anger on CJ's face seemed to be almost a living thing, and Michael felt a surge of real fear. "The only one who's lost someone? Well, fuck you. All of you might hate me and think that I'm just a piece of shit security guard with a fucking dirty mouth, but I had a life before this, too. I had kids. I didn't get to see them often, 'cause of the bastard lawyer my ex-wife hired, but I had 'em. Two girls. And it drives me fucking _apeshit_ to think that they became some fucking corpses' breakfast and are probably trying to have a cannibal sandwich right now, too. But I can't do anything about it. And all the shoulders to cry on in the world ain't gonna change that. I'd be stupid not to try as damned hard as I can to stay alive. If it comes to me or you, I'm gonna choose me, 'cause _I don't wanna fucking die_! But I'm sick of you goddamn hypocrites who seem to think that you wouldn't do the same damn thing. This is about survival, not group therapy. You can lock me up till fucking judgment day – oh, wait, too late – but the truth is, if you had to, you'd put a gun in my face and pull the fucking trigger as quick as I would."

Again Michael nearly lost his balance as CJ released him. Kenneth still had the gun trained on him. CJ looked up at him with a twisted smile on his face. "You gonna shoot me now, shitface? I wasn't lying, was I."? He held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "Might be easier if you didn't have to deal with me anyways, right? Save the food, at least."

"Don't think I'm not tempted." Kenneth said, the gun still steady in his hands.

"I know you are. Hell, I wanted to shoot _you_ the second I saw you on the monitors. But that was me, not one of you pansy-asses. So watcha gonna do, you bleeding heart piece of shit? _Whatcha gonna do?"_

"How about getting you out of the security office?" Michael heard himself say.

"What?" CJ said in shock.

"What?" Kenneth echoed in the same tone.

"Yeah." Michael said. He looked at CJ for a moment. CJ had been a father. Somehow that made Michael feel a little closer to the man…not that he wanted to explore that feeling, but CJ had somehow become a cookie-cutter jackass to him. He had nearly forgotten that he was still human – and that was a commodity that was becoming rare. "You have a point. Survival. You can't very well help us if you're locked up in a cell. And I wouldn't mind someone who wouldn't hesitate to shoot me if I turned into one of those things that just killed Bart." Michael smiled humorlessly at CJ. "Let's just say you wait until I do before sticking a gun in my face again, all right?"

A moment passed. "You serious, man?" CJ finally asked.

"Completely serious." Michael said. "Out of the cell, just another part of the group. There are plenty of opportunities to die out there, but the ones that have to do with living are drying up fast. Any help's appreciated." He cocked his head. "So? Deal?"

CJ was silent for a moment, and then barked a harsh laugh. "Shit, yeah, it's a deal! If I'd've known, I'd have offered to shoot you days ago!"

"Like I said, wait until you're sure I'm one of them." Michael said with a small smile.

"So I get my gun back, right?"

Michael exchanged a quick look with Kenneth. The big man shook his head slightly. "Sure." Michael said, ignoring the stony stare Kenneth directed his way. "Can't very well shoot me without one."

"Good fucking deal! You're not half bad, Mikey." CJ punched him on the shoulder lightly.

Michael just kept that small half-smile on his face. "Don't call me Mikey, okay?"

"Sure, whatever."

CJ had already started up the stairs, whistling as he passed Kenneth, a slight smirk on his face. Kenneth looked down at Michael. "What the hell are you thinking, Michael? You really wanna give that bastard a gun?"

"Survival." Michael reminded him. "And really, we're probably not going to live real long anyways. I don't want to have a man's last days be trapped in a mall security holding cell."

"But why the hell do you want to give him a gun? That's just fucking stupid."

Michael shrugged. "He's lunch if it comes down to it and he doesn't have one."

"I don't like it."

"Sorry."

"You assholes coming or what?" CJ called from the door.

"Yeah." Michael answered. Kenneth's eyes bored into his a moment more, then they started up the stairs.

Michael wasn't really sure he had made the right decision, but CJ's will to live would make him fight those things like a demon, he was sure. And they already outnumbered them thousands to one. Another person could only help.

He just hoped the others would see it that way.

**OoooOoooO**

"You okay?"

Fran glared at the other blonde woman. "Are_ you_ okay?"

"Not really." Anna said simply, not seeming to take offense. This killed the small spark of anger that had prompted Fran's attitude.

"Sorry, I-"

"No need to apologize." Anna offered her a small smile. "Totally understandable."

They were sitting at Hallowed Grounds with the others. The power had come back on mere minutes after the sound of gunshots, so they knew at least the guys –Bart, Michael, Kenneth and CJ – had made it to the generator intact. The return trip was still in question, though. Anna had given her and Peter the rundown on the Crossroads mall crew, although Fran couldn't remember which man was Tucker and which was Glen for some reason. Names would come in time.

Peter was sitting with stony stillness. He'd barely said a word since his outburst in _Carousel._ Fran herself tended to believe this Anna – she didn't seem to be lying, and the others seemed just as stunned with the events of the last hour as she had been. But she agreed with him on the point of how they could have not _known_ about it. How on earth could that man and his wife had hidden it?

"How far along are you?"

Fran looked at Anna in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Your pregnancy. It's not exactly a secret, you know." Anna held up one hand. "I'm not trying to pry, and I'm not going to ask to rub your stomach or anything. I'm a nurse. I guess you could say I'm the Crossroads doctor, now. Or the closest thing to one."

Knots of tension she hadn't even known she had been carrying suddenly loosened. Fran had tried hard not to think about how she would handle the birth without medical facilities. People had been having babies for hundreds of years without hospitals, but she felt a large comfort that at least she'd have one trained medical professional to assist her birth.

If she lived that long, that is.

"Six months," Fran said.

Anna nodded thoughtfully. "That's good. You having any problems? Morning sickness or anything?"

"The morning sickness was pretty bad, but its passed. Otherwise I feel like a bloated cow, but fine."

Fran surprised herself by laughing too as Anna chuckled at her comment. "Wait till you start nursing, then talk to me about feeling like a cow, okay?" Anna frowned. "Are you going to try and nurse?'

"I honestly haven't really thought about it." Fran admitted. "I've been kind of going through this pregnancy with blinders on. I'm not even sure I want to bring a baby into the world as it is now. How could you?"  
Anna nodded slowly. "I can understand that. But you really can't do anything about it now, I suppose."

"I could have aborted it."

"Well, yes, but that was before all this happened. There wouldn't have been a reason then, but –"

"No, I mean I could have aborted it after." Fran said. Maybe it was because she had been in the company of men for so long, or maybe it was because of Anna's open attitude, but suddenly she felt the need to speak about her pregnancy – a thing which she had until now avoided at all costs. "Peter knows how. I really don't know how he knows, but he does."

Fran couldn't help but notice the cold look Anna sent Peter's way. "I take it he's not the father, right?"

Fran shook her head with a soft laugh. The idea of Peter and her had never really crossed her mind. "No, he's not the father. The father's dead."

"I was guessing. I'm sorry." Anna said. "My husband was killed too. By a neighbor girl I used to go skating with from time to time. She had been changed, then, of course. She had been one of them."

_Them._ Fran had noted how these people didn't seem to want to use the word 'zombie.' To some degree she understood that. The word had become trite. Horror movies and spoofs had robbed it of its power, and a zombie had become the butt of a joke. She didn't really see what else these things could be called. Zombie. The word no longer held humor for her. Seeing Steven's face, his dead, uncomprehending face had imbued the word with a hundred times the power it had held in former years. Suddenly she became aware that Anna was still speaking.

"Excuse me, I didn't catch that."

"I thought you might not want to answer. I just asked if _they_ killed your husband too."

_He wasn't my husband._ Fran hesitated. "Yes."

Anna nodded sympathetically. "It's become a standard story, but that doesn't lessen how much it hurts."

"We weren't-" Fran began but was stopped by a deep man's voice coming down the corridor. The others shared looks of relief, but her and Peter just straightened up in apprehension.

"We lost Bart." The deep voice said as its owner came into view. "The fuckers were in the parking garage. It fell on him from the rafters. I – who the hell are they?"

The question was not directed at her or Peter, but rather at Anna. Two other men stepped into view. One was good looking in a casual sort of way, nothing to cream your jeans over but cute. The other would have been better looking if he didn't carry himself with such a swagger. The owner of the deep voice was a black man, tall, broad, and dangerous looking. All three were covered in a light sheen of sweat and an oily black substance…soot?

"Bart's dead, too?" The boy – Terry, his name was, but he had just become "the boy" to her – said in a dull voice. It was the voice of someone whose shock circuits had burnt out, and who couldn't handle one more surprise or he would die of an overload. It was a voice that had no place on the young, innocent man she saw before her.

"What do you mean, too?" The casually good-looking man said. He, too, was speaking to Anna.

"Andre…Luda…Norma." Anna said. "They're all dead. I'm sorry, Michael."

"What…how?" Michael seemed completely floored by this revelation. "Did they get in?"

"Not exactly." Anna said.

"Then what happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know." Peter said suddenly. The entirety of the group turned to him. "Because I'm finding it hard to believe that no one here knew the woman was bit, and the fact is that somebody had obviously been prepared for her to die – and come back. Now, I could be wrong and you all are just fucking stupid enough to have missed it, but lets just say I'm assuming you're all a bit more intelligent than your average ape. So…"

"I don't recall anyone putting you in charge, friend." The black man said – Kenneth, she guessed from Anna's descriptions. "So why in hell should we explain anything to you?"

"You don't." Peter said coldly. "But from what I see here, you all have done a piss-poor job of making sure your group is safe. If that woman really did hide the fact that she was infected, then you weren't paying attention. Fran and I don't really want to have to go it alone, that's for sure, but I'm not joining a bunch of people who are going to lead us into certain death – or worse."

"Listen, fuckface –"

Michael held one hand out, and the cocky guy quieted. "We didn't know anything. I'm guessing one of the women were bitten." Fran's eyebrow's raised slightly. This one had a quick mind. "If we'd had known, we'd have taken care of it. We've done it before. It's a big place, and Andre and Luda were…distant, to say the least." He looked quizzically at Anna. "Norma…?"

"Gunshot. Andre shot her."

Michael's eyes widened, and Fran guessed that he had realized which of the three had come back after she died. "Luda, then, I'm guessing…"he seemed unable to suppress the wince of grief that passed fleetingly over his face. "We could use the help, God knows we could. But if you don't want to, fine. I don't know how you got here anyways, I'm sure Anna will fill us in, but if you want to go, no one's stopping you. You're welcome to stay. God knows we could use the help." He repeated.

Fran was bright enough to admire how he had neatly turned the tables to his favor. He'd started by seemingly acquiescing to Peter's demands and ended by turning it into an ultimatum. She looked at Peter. She agreed to a degree that these people were unorganized, but, unlike him, she had been a regular civilian before the dead had started walking. She didn't want to leave, no matter how inept the group might have seemed.

Peter kept his gaze on Michael. Neither spoke. The only sound in the room was the sound of the redhead's sobbing, which was quiet but hadn't stopped since they had left the birthplace of that monstrous child.

"We stay." Peter finally said, and Fran felt a brief surge of anger. Though her answer would have been the same, she had thought they had already had this conversation. He hadn't even consulted her. "For the time being, at least."

Michael nodded with obvious relief. "That's good – for the time being. There's plenty of food and water, beds and such. No problem." He looked at Anna. "The others…Andre, Luda…where are they?"

"Carousel."

Michael nodded. "Okay. Kenneth, CJ, Tucker…lets take care of the bodies. Bring them out here, first…we should have some sort of ceremony, or something. I don't know." He headed towards the store…then turned to Peter. "You coming? We could use the help."

Peter just stared at him. "Sure, man." He said after a moment. "I'll help."

Fran watched them as they walked away. Something in Peter's voice had worried her. He seemed to have dismissed his concerns, but she knew him better than that…and she didn't want to leave. She didn't want to be alone again.

She didn't want to be alone.

**End of part 2**

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